Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Tatianna
The main lights flicker once, twice, then burst into full brightness, making me wince after hours in the dim emergency glow.
We're curled together on a leather bench in the African artifacts section, my body draped across Jerald's massive chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
The sudden illumination feels like an intrusion—harsh reality flooding back after our night of shadows and secrets.
I stiffen against him, something like panic fluttering in my chest. What happens now?
In the forgiving darkness, becoming his "little girl," surrendering to his possession, letting him fill me repeatedly with promises of breeding me—it all felt right, necessary, perfect.
But under these unforgiving fluorescents, will he see me differently?
Will I seem pathetic, desperate, too easily claimed?
Will he regret the things he said, the marks he left, the promises he made?
"Power's back," he states unnecessarily, his voice a rumble beneath my cheek.
I nod, not trusting my voice, suddenly self-conscious about my naked state beneath his uniform shirt, about the sticky evidence of our activities drying on my thighs.
In the stark light, I can see the bruises forming on my wrists, my hips, the bite mark on my shoulder darkening to a vivid purple.
Marks of his possession that seemed so right in the darkness now feel like evidence of something forbidden.
A distant mechanical hum fills the building—the climate control systems restarting, the security systems rebooting. The museum is waking up around us, shaking off the strange dream state of the lockdown.
"What time is it?" I ask, my voice small and uncertain.
Jerald checks his watch. "5:42. Staff starts arriving at 7:00."
Just over an hour before our private world is invaded. Before we have to face other people, explain ourselves, return to our separate lives. The thought makes my chest ache with a surprising intensity.
A series of loud clicks echo through the building—the security doors unlocking automatically as the system resets. The sound is like a clock striking midnight, breaking the spell, ending the enchantment. Freedom. Escape.
Terror.
"We should..." I begin, not knowing how to finish. Should what? Get dressed? Pretend this never happened? Go our separate ways? The thought makes me physically ill.
Jerald's arms tighten around me, as if sensing my panic. "Look at me," he commands, his voice dropping into that register that makes my body respond instantly.
I lift my head, meeting his eyes reluctantly, afraid of what I might see there—regret, embarrassment, a return to the professional distance he maintained for eight months.
What I find instead steals my breath. His gaze is just as intense, just as possessive as it has been all night. If anything, the bright lights have only made it more piercing, more absolute.
"You think anything's changed?" he asks, one large hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You think I'm letting you go just because the sun's coming up?"
Relief floods me so intensely my eyes burn with sudden tears. "I thought maybe…when the lights came on..."
“What did I tell you, honey? You were such a brave little girl for Daddy last night," he murmurs, thumb wiping away a tear that escapes. "So perfect. So mine. You think I'd give that up just because the power's back?"
His words wash over me like a balm, soothing the fear that had been building since the first flicker of the lights. I shake my head, leaning into his touch like a cat seeking affection.
"Come on," he says, sitting up and bringing me with him. "We need to get you cleaned up and dressed before anyone arrives."
He helps me stand on shaky legs, supporting me when I wince at the soreness between my thighs. His expression darkens with male pride at the evidence of his thorough claiming.
"My shirt's probably in the planetarium," I remember suddenly. "And my skirt is..."
"By the break room," he finishes with a small smile. "I'll get them. Wait here."
While he retrieves my clothes, I take stock of myself in the bright light. My hair is a tangled mess, my lips swollen from his kisses, my body marked in a dozen places with evidence of his possession. I should feel used, maybe even ashamed.
Instead, I feel…claimed. Treasured. Seen.
Jerald returns with my clothing and helps me dress with surprising tenderness, his large hands gentle as he buttons my blouse, smooths my skirt.
When I'm fully clothed again, looking somewhat presentable despite the obvious signs of our night together, he takes my hand and leads me toward the museum entrance.
The main lobby stretches before us, empty and silent, early morning light just beginning to filter through the high windows. In an hour, this space will be filled with staff preparing for the day, but for now, it remains our private domain.
"One more thing before we leave," Jerald says, pulling me to a stop in the center of the massive marble floor.
Before I can question him, his mouth is on mine, claiming me again with a kiss so thorough it makes my knees buckle. His arms wrap around me, lifting me against his chest, my feet dangling above the floor as he devours my mouth with possessive hunger.
"Need to have you one more time," he growls against my lips. "Need to send you into the world with me still inside you."
Any protest I might have made dies in my throat as he carries me to the information desk—a circular counter in the center of the lobby where visitors normally get maps and audio guides. He sets me on the edge, pushing my skirt up around my waist in one smooth motion.
"Here?" I gasp, glancing nervously at the entrance doors. "What if someone—"
"No one's coming yet," he assures me, already freeing himself from his uniform pants. "And I need this. Need you."
The desperation in his voice, the raw need in his eyes, silences any further objections. I spread my legs for him, watching as his eyes darken at the sight of my ruined panties, still damp from our previous encounters.
"My good girl," he praises, tearing the thin fabric away rather than bothering to remove them properly. "Always ready for Daddy."
I should be embarrassed by how quickly my body responds, how easily I fall back into the role that felt so natural in the darkness. But as he positions himself at my entrance, as he pushes inside with one powerful thrust that makes me cry out, I realize this isn't a role at all.
This is who I am with him. Who I've perhaps always been, waiting for the right man to recognize it, to draw it out of me.
"Mine," he growls as he begins to move, each thrust making the solid desk creak beneath us. "Tell me who you belong to, little girl."
"You," I gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he claims me one final time. "Only you, Daddy."
The filthy praise flows from him as he pounds into me—how perfect I am, how tight, how beautiful taking his cock, how good at making Daddy feel good. Each word sinks into me like truth, like revelation.
Sunlight streams through the high windows now, painting stripes across the marble floor, across our joined bodies. There's no darkness to hide in, no shadows to blame for our behavior. Just us, in the clear light of morning, choosing this. Choosing each other.
My climax takes me by surprise, crashing over me with unexpected force. I bury my face against his neck to muffle my cries as pleasure radiates through me in waves. He follows immediately after, his release filling me one last time, marking me from the inside before we must face the outside world.
As we catch our breath, as he carefully fixes my skirt and helps me down from the desk on trembling legs, I realize with perfect clarity: This wasn't just a lockdown-induced madness. This wasn't just circumstance or proximity or adrenaline.
This was finding something I didn't know I needed. Something I don't want to lose when those doors open.
"Ready?" he asks, straightening his uniform, though nothing can hide the satisfied gleam in his eyes or the possessive way his hand settles at the small of my back.
I nod, suddenly certain despite all logic suggesting I should run far and fast from such intensity after just one night.
"Ready, Daddy," I whisper, just for us, just before we step into the morning light.
And the smile that spreads across his face tells me everything I need to know.
This isn't ending.
It's just beginning.